Premonition
by untidyclaws
Summary: Farfarello brings a girl back from insanity after a premonition drives her there. He reminisces about their past together, and examines his own history and insanity. He silently hopes that sparks will fly, oblivious to the bonfire that is already burning.
1. Memories in the present

"You didn't bring her back from the brink of insanity, Farfarello," Crawford sighed. It was difficult for him to discuss insanity with the madman--too difficult to get trapped in a technicality. But he was sure of one thing, the thing he said next. "She was well past the brink, farther than even you have gone, and you dragged her out."  
  
"That makes the two of us even, then," quipped the Irishman as he sat on the counter pureeing tomatoes.  
  
Crawford raised an eyebrow. "Have you forgiven God, then?"  
  
Farfarello launched himself at Crawford and landed on his chest, knocking and pinning him to the floor. He had also helped himself to a kitchen knife during his flight, which he pressed against Crawford's throat. "Don't. Suggest. Such. Things," growled the madman. "Rebecca........" The words died on his tounge as he realized he didn't know what they were--he had no idea what Rebecca had done that had so completely changed him. He had no idea why Rebecca's presence was so comforting, what she had sparked that made pulling her back from madness seem like so little.  
  
Schuldig helped Farfarello in his thinking by pulling up every time Rebecca had smiled at the Irishman within Farfarello's mind. It slowed down his calculations, his analysis of himself in full insane rage versus himself around Rebecca, until he could think of nothing but her smiling face, the way her eyes twinkled when she asked him about his scars, and the way she had clung to him and laughed at Crawdad Crawford jokes. But Schuldig had more important things to do than turn Farfarello into a lovesick puppy. He discreetly dug up a memory of Farfarello's--Rebecca hanging off of him with the demented grin of the insane as she told him about the blood dripping off of the walls. He twisted the memory of her laughing about the Wall Street Journal crossing its legs into the other, more disturbing memory.  
  
Farfarello fell off of Crawford, cutting him in the process. He drew his arms around himself and shook himself to get rid of the image. But strong arms were around him, a woman's voice was shushing him. In the background, he vaguely heard Crawford yelling at Schuldig. He opened his eye and saw Rebecca holding him protectively.  
  
"Shhh, Farfie. Shhhh, Farfie-kun. At least we stopped him in time," she whispered soothingly. "At least he didn't show you my vision."  
  
"What did you see, Rebecca?"  
  
"All of us. Dead. Covered in blood," Rebecca shuddered, recalling the vision. "Bradley, in his favourite chair, shot twelve times with darts, through his beloved newspaper--in the heart, stomach, head.....so much blood....it was dripping off the wall behind it. Nagi, strung up on wires, all bloody and dripping...and the basement walls were dripping....you and me...down there, cut apart..." Rebecca sobbed into Farfarello as she remembered the terrible premonition.  
  
The Irishman was unsure of how to comfort her, but he tried to pull her into his lap. Instead, she fell to the floor as he was dragged to his feet. He felt himself fly into a wall, oblivious to the pain of his now broken shoulder. Crawford loomed over him and snarled, "How DARE you ask her to remember something like that! She went to comfort you and you ask her to tell you about that! You're more than insane! You're stupid! I will never let you near my sister again!"  
  
Ok, folks. This is mostly a trial run. I'll start writing more as I get reviews. I'm not asking for anything insane, just six. One measely review and I'll write the next chapter. Six (five more) and I'll post it. Until then, try to figure out my penname. Get it, and I'll give you a cookie. Those of you who already know (you know who you are), don't spoil it for others. ZaiJian! 


	2. Rebecca Crawford

Farfarello knew he shouldn't have asked Rebecca about her vision. But Crawford had no right to play the protective brother, especially not after he had demanded that Farfarello kill Rebecca. Farfarello thought back to the day he asked her to kill him so he wouldn't have to kill her.  
  
Farfarello let himself into Rebecca's apartment through her casually never-locked door. Since she worked the night shift, she wouldn't be up until noon. He glanced at the clock--10:30. He had an hour and a half to kill his best friend and leave. He leaned against the wall and cried. He wasn't sure when he slid to the floor, but he opened his eye when a pair of strong but feminine arms wrapped around him. Rebecca was there, awake long before she should have been. He put his arms around her from within her embrace and tried not to cry. "Rebecca, just kill me. If you don't, I'll get killed anyway. Use my ice pick, call it self-defense."  
  
"Bradley sent you to kill me," she stated, eerily calm. It was not a question, or a guess. She was simply stating what was, to her, an obvious fact.  
  
To say that her statement stunned Farfarello would be akin to saying that he disliked God. He had never referred to Crawford, directly or indirectly, in front of Rebecca before. And if he had forgotten a momentary mention of him, it would have been by his surname, Crawford, not Bradley. And she had no way of knowing that he had ordered her death.  
  
Somewhere in his thinking, Rebecca had started rocking Farfarello back and forth and was shushing him. "Shhh, Farfie-kun. You're not going to die today. Shhhh, who would torment God if you died? Shh, no extra-crispy Farfie. I'm going to speak with Bradley, and this will all be ok," she murmured.  
  
When Farfarello had calmed, she wrapped her arms around his left arm. It was something she had discovered long ago infuriated him because it was on his blind side. That meant for him to steal a look at her, he would need to turn his head, which wasn't very discreet. She half-dragged him out the door, and into the parking lot. She hopped onto the back of her motorcycle and tossed Farfarello the helmet. He looked at the helmet disapprovingly and tossed it back to her. She caught it and dumped it into a bag as Farfarello got on.  
  
Twenty minutes of bad directions later, the Harley stopped in front of the house shared by the members of Schwarz. Farfarello hopped off to escort Rebecca in. She had already stormed to the door by the time he was on the sidewalk.  
  
The door flew open, startling Crawford. He did not, however, visibly jump. He merely lifted his eyes over the edge of the Wall Street Journal. What met his eyes was a thousand times more frightening than an avenging harpy flying towards him intent upon his death. It was his elder sister, hands fisted at her sides. Her eyes blazed fire as she stalked towards him.  
  
Sorry to end the chapter in the middle of a flashback, but that's where it needed to be. I'm also sorry that I have such a weak resolve. I asked for six reviews, and I'm posting this on only one. I'm sure no readers mind. However, this chapter is tiny. A bit of coaxing shoul make future chapters longer. ZaiJian! 


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